Kept Promises
by MGMK
Summary: Life with the Pierces. "...Brittany's mouth collides against her own, fierce and with the promise of forever."


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note:** Hey all. Sorry it's been a while but you know, life and shit. And update ya'll, Maya's seven months old. Question: what should they do for her first birthday? You know it's gotta be huge because she's the first Glee club baby. So huge that the Schuesters are flying in. I'm up for suggestions. Also, for those wondering, I am meticulously and methodically working on a new _Fifty First Times_ chapter. I'm just taking my time because I want to get it right. Anyhow, thanks in advance for reading/reviewing. You guys totally make my day sometimes. And, as always, thank you to my awesomely awesome beta. Enjoy! Oh, and happy Glee-day!

***o*O*o***

"Mmm," Brittany grunts, turning over in bed as she hears Maya start to whine, "'S your turn," she murmurs, her mouth pressing into Santana's shoulder.

Santana's brow furrows in her sleep. "Just went."

"Two days ago," Brittany says, still teetering on the edge of slumber. "She likes watching home videos. Last time I put on one of my old dance recitals and she went out like a light," she slurs out, voice thick with sleep.

Maya's whines turn into low wails and they both groan, knowing it's only a matter of time before she starts crying for real.

"Okay. I'm going," Santana mutters, swinging her legs out of bed without sitting up.

Brittany moves off of her to let her up the rest of the way, instantly reaching for Santana's discarded pillow and curling into it instead of Santana's neck. She starts to snore lightly – although, Brittany _totally _ doesn't snore…ever – and Santana watches her with a smile as she stretches out her arms, trying to wake up.

For a half a second she thinks about getting video evidence of the snoring thing – just because listening to Brittany defend the snoring would be all kinds of adorable – but then a quiet hiccup sounds over the baby monitor and Santana knows that she'd better get to Maya Pierce.

And soon.

"Hey Princess," she says quietly, creeping into the baby's room. The teddy bear nightlight is still aglow, so she can easily make out a sitting Maya – she's gotten really good at the sitting up thing – clutching onto the bars of her crib like she's in some kind of baby jail.

Maya's eyes dart to the sound of her voice, and she sucks in her lower lip and reaches up, beckoning for Santana to come get her.

"What's the matter, baby?" Santana coos, picking her up and cradling her in her arms gently. She doesn't need a change and she shouldn't be hungry. "Is mommy's little girl afraid of the dark?"

Maya's quieted somewhat, staring up into her mother's face but when Santana goes to put her back into bed, the baby's lower lips pokes out, her eyes filling with tears.

"Don't cry baby," Santana coos, cradling her daughter against her shoulder. "It's okay. We can have a sleepover."

She walks them out to the living room and she flips on the TV, still rocking Maya before Brittany's suggestion comes to mind.

She moves Maya so that she's resting on her hip as she looks through the set of DVDs sitting on their bookcase. "What should we watch, huh? High school graduation?" she asks Maya, raising her eyebrows at the little girl and she swears Maya mimics her.

"Maybe not," Santana says, wrinkling her nose. Maya giggles at that. "Oh, here's one I haven't seen in a while," she smiles to herself, taking the DVD out of the case with one hand and slipping it into the player.

She grabs the remote and settles against the couch, sitting on one leg and leaning against the arm as she settles Maya in on her lap before pressing play.

"_Boy," Mercedes says, her face slightly out of focus, "Do you even know how to work that thing?"_

"_Yes," Sam's voice replies, out of shot. "I just have to- there we go," he finally says, Mercedes grinning face sharp and defined. "Now this is what you call a money shot."_

"_Ew," Mercedes snorts, "I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."_

"_Meh," Puck says with a shrug, overhearing their conversation, "A little bit of both."_

"_Dude," Sam says, turning to camera toward Puck, "I've been meaning to ask. Can I still have my party at your place? I can give you like half the down payment-"_

"_Bro, my bar is your bar," Puck says, accepting the beer Quinn brings him. "I don't need or want your money. Plus, it'd be good to get in some favors with the law man before he starts raking in the dough, don't you think?"_

"_That's right," Mercedes sing-songs, scooting in closer to Sam. "My baby's going to be the bestest, baddest lawyer in the history of…you know, legal stuff."_

_Sam grins, readily accepting the kiss Mercedes leans in to give him until, "Ahhhhh!"_

_Mercedes pulls back, her face awash in shock. "What the-"_

_Sam angles the camera toward the girly shriek he hears, just managing to catch the freaked out look on Mercedes' face as they both look to where Brittany is flailing about, arms and legs moving around in an excited rush._

"_I knew it," she says, pointing an accusatory finger at a beaming Santana. "I fucking knew it."_

"_Britt," Santana giggles, trying to grab one of Brittany's hand with her own shaking one, "Don't swear. Sam is videotaping this."_

"_I fucking knew it," Brittany continues to gloat, keeping her left hand out of Santana's reach. "Not planning anything my ass. You were so worried. Like, more worried than when you accidentally killed our goldfish. Like you didn't already know I was gonna say yes."_

_Santana shakes her head at herself, feeling her face heat up at the attention Brittany's attracting. Everyone at their impromptu glee club reunion/barbecue all focused in on them now. "I kind of need to put this on your hand to make it official though so can you stay still for a moment?"_

_Brittany pushes her hair back, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly, her shoulders finally stilling as she quiets herself in front of Santana. "You have to properly ask me," she manages around a crooked smile, giggling when Santana gawks at her in response._

"_I was about to ask you but then you ran out of the kitchen like a lunatic."_

_Brittany tilts her head, looking down at Santana through fluttering eyelashes. "I didn't hear a question in there."_

_Santana takes one last look around, catching the amused grins of their friends and family as they enjoy the show. Sam moves closer, one eye squinted closed as he maneuvers the camera so that's it's zoomed in on them. She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and looks directly at Brittany._

"_Brittany, I don't want to say the cliché things here – like, how from the moment I met you, I knew you were the one for me, even though, that's entirely true. Love over Elmer's school paste, who would've thought. Or, how every time I see you I have to pinch myself to believe that I'm actually with you, which, confession time, after we…" she pauses to look around nervously, "got together, got together senior year in high school, I totally did pinch myself that next morning. Just to make sure I wasn't having the best hallucination ever."_

"_You totally weren't," Brittany interjects, raising Santana's hand and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles, her thumb massaging the same skin just a moment after._

_Santana smiles. "I could say that you're the best thing that has ever happened and will ever happen to me, but, well, no, actually I want to say that. You're my best thing, Britt. Now and forever. And I wanna be yours. I want to spend my life making sure that I do everything I can to make you feel happy, make you proud, and, most of all, make sure that you feel absolutely, entirely, one-hundred percent loved. That's all I've ever wanted. So, I'm asking you for that chance."_

_Santana untangles her hands from Brittany's, takes the ring out of the slot and tosses the velvet powder blue box aside, unconcerned with where it lay. One hand, the one holding the ring reaches out for Brittany's left, the other reaches up to gently caress Brittany's cheek, her thumb catching the few happy tears that have fallen there. "Let me love you, Britt," she whispers, "Let me be your wife."_

_Brittany takes in a short breath when Santana suddenly drops to one knee, her eyes squinting just a bit in the sunlight._

_She takes Brittany's left hand, moves the engagement ring so that it rests just on the tip on Brittany's finger; waiting._

"_Brittany Susan Pierce," Santana says, swallowing against the onslaught of tears she knows is just waiting to come, "Will you marry me?"_

_Brittany swoons, she actually swoons, her knees buckling a little as she actually – finally – hears the words. She's so overcome by the emotion of it all though that she can't actually speak, her head falling forward in a nod as her mouth opens to release a choked gasp that sounds a lot like 'yes'._

_Santana's smile morphs into a bit of a smirk, her gaze slightly mischievous. "I didn't quite catch that."_

"_Yes," Brittany chokes out, swallowing to get her mouth to work. "Yes, I'll marry you!" she finally manages, hoisting Santana to her feet and Santana scrambles to slip the ring on, their hands pressed between their bodies as Brittany's mouth collides against her own, fierce and with the promise of forever._

_Words of congratulations and cheer all slip away as Brittany continues to kiss her, the hushed 'I love you' ringing in her ears._

The video stops.

Santana's face hurts from smiling so much, watching that memory play out on camera is second only to the actual memory.

This and Mercedes' overnight celebrity were the best things to come out of Sam's voyeurism phase.

She peers down to where Maya's snuggled into her chest, her baby breaths rapid but deep as she clings tightly to her mother and Santana's heart beats strong, the memory of the day she promised herself and her love to Brittany.

It's kind of surreal watching them then and being them now, girlfriends turning into wives then turning into mothers. It's trippy, but only in the best way.

Because she hopes she's living up to her promise.

She hopes she's making Brittany happy, making sure she feels loved.

And as she settles into bed, her back to Brittany and her wife turns over and spoons her, her hand finding Santana's and joining it in resting gently against the crown of Maya's head, Brittany's relieved and happy sigh let her know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is.

***o*O*o***

"Oh my God," Brittany gasps, her back pressed against the shower door.

She doesn't know exactly how they ended up this way – not that she's complaining – because one minute she was spitting out a mouthful of Listerine in an empty bathroom and the next, Santana was pressed up against her like a second skin.

She's still pressed up against her like a second skin, and kissing her, and groping her and…

"Fuck," Brittany curses around a groan as Santana's teeth sink into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, lips and tongue following a second after to soothe the angered skin.

"Mmmhmm," Santana hums, her hands slipping under Brittany's shirt. "That's the idea."

"What's gotten into you?" Brittany somehow manages to say, Santana's nimble and skilled fingers proving to be much more than a mere distraction.

"Unfortunately not you," Santana murmurs, dragging her lips back up to Brittany's and kissing her deeply for a moment, teeth tugging gently on a plump lower lip. She pulls away with a grin and a devilish glint in her eyes. "We should fix that."

Brittany's lips turn up in a slow smile. "What did you have in mind?"

Santana's hands are warm as they clasp her wrist, holding it delicately and placing Brittany's hand palm side against her stomach. "Hmm. Maybe some crepes?"

"Sounds goo- wait, what?"

"Crepes," Santana repeats and Brittany frowns, confused.

"Crepes?" Brittany asks, incredulous.

"With sliced strawberries," Santana continues, her voice not nearly as husky as a moment ago. "Yeah, that's what I'll make."

_Dear God, no._

Brittany's eyes pop open and she's met with the image of her gorgeous wife and adorable daughter – and, again, not that she's complaining – but _oh my God._

"Look, Maya," Santana says brightly, slightly turning the baby so she can see Brittany. "Momma's awake."

Maya claps her chubby hands excitedly, her enthusiasm making her lose balance so that she falls backward against the pillows.

Brittany shifts so that she's on her back, then props herself up on her elbows and looks at Santana. "It happened again."

Santana looks up from Maya, whose tummy she's tickling, to Brittany with shocked eyes. "Seriously?"

Brittany nods, rubbing a hand across her face before falling back against the bed with a groan. "I feel like a teenage boy or something. Actually, no, that would be horrible. I'd wake up every morning with a boner."

Santana giggles, lightly slapping Brittany's arm. "Don't say things like that. The mental images scar me for life."

"Sorry," Brittany murmurs, a sheepish grin on her face. "You think there's something wrong with me?"

"I think you're horny and sex-deprived," Santana says, matter-of-factly, laughing gently at the look of pure anguish that crosses Brittany's face after. "Don't worry baby," she soothes, reaching over to brush her fingers against Brittany's cheek. "As soon as Maya gets out of this phase, I'll take care of you…all. Night. Long."

This "phase" Santana's speaking of came on rather quickly and it's one almost every parent goes through.

And Maya's in it.

It all started one afternoon when Brittany was at work.

Santana was working out some lyrics in the living room, Maya happily playing in her bouncer. But then Santana went into the kitchen to check on dinner, Maya oblivious to her leaving.

Santana thought everything we fine and dandy until her seven month old daughter started screaming bloody murder.

_Startled, Santana drops the wooden spoon onto the counter before rushing back into the living room and dropping to her knees in front of the still wailing Maya._

"_Baby, what's wrong?" she coos, quickly undoing the straps to the bouncer and taking Maya into her arms. "What's the matter?"_

_Maya's face is red with the exertion of crying, and though her cries are muffled against Santana's chest, they still ring loud in her mother's ears._

"_Don't cry," Santana continues to murmur in a soothing voice. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Mommy's here." She rocks the baby gently, holding her close to her heart and gradually Maya's crying slows until she's quiet, her little arms grasping her mother as tightly as she can._

_Santana pulls her back just a little bit, enough to brush away the tiny tears on red-hot chubby cheeks, her own heart only just now returning to normal. _

_Maya sighs a little, her tiny chest heaving slightly and Santana just cuddles her closer. "Did you think Mommy was gone, baby? Mommy's not gone. Mommy's not going anywhere."_

Santana spent the rest of the afternoon never leaving Maya's sight.

It was Brittany that figured out what was going on when she had a similar experience leaving for work one morning.

"_Babe, you seen my keys?" Brittany calls out after a while. _

_She'd spent the last twenty minutes looking for the damn things and after checking every horizontal surface in the house, she'd decided it was time to involve her wife._

"_Did you check the coffee table?" Santana's voice rings from their bedroom bathroom. _

"_Yes!" Brittany yells back, cramming her hand in between the sofa cushions now. _

_Maya's watching her from her playpen and laughs when Brittany blows a breath a air into her own face, her hair moving comically._

"_Did you have orange juice or a glass of water this morning?" Santana inquires, striding into the living room, still working a brush through her wet hair._

_Brittany furrows her brow. "Water. But what does that have to do with anything?" she asks, following her wife into the kitchen after she answers._

_Santana smirks and pulls open the freezer, a slight jingling sounding out just a moment after._

_Brittany smiles, making her way over to Santana and plucking the keys out of her hand. "What would I ever do without you?"_

_Santana's smirk melts into a grin as she drapes her arms around Brittany's neck, pulling her closer. "I don't know. Probably never leave this house again."_

_She presses a quick kiss to Brittany's lips, intending to keep it chaste since she knows Maya can still see them but Brittany has other plans it seems, and she squeaks when Brittany lifts her off the ground a little bit, moving them further into the kitchen and away from curious, bright eyes._

"_I thought you were gonna be late," Santana mumbles against Brittany's lips, her butt pressed against the kitchen table._

"_Late?" Brittany sighs, easily lifting Santana onto the table as she trails a series of wet kisses down Santana's chin, jaw line, and neck. "Late for what?"_

_Santana giggles, moving her hands so that her palms brush affectionately against her wife's cheeks as she pulls the blonde's head back up. "For work, Britt-Britt."_

"_Crap," Brittany groans, forcing herself to pull away. "It's your fault you know. You always manage to distract me. I mean, your sweet lady kisses have always been my kryptonite but lately? I swear. You just get hotter by the day or something."_

_Santana watches Brittany compose herself, still perched atop their kitchen table but then her look changes, the lust gives way to something much softer, delicate even. "I love you," she says, and her voice breaks a little on the syllables because of how strongly she feels them._

_Brittany looks up from where she's maneuvering things in her purse and smiles, her eyes recognizing the look in Santana's. "I love you, too," she says quietly, slowly walking back over to her wife. "And I'm so leaving work early tonight," Brittany adds with a wink._

_They laugh and share a goodbye kiss, Santana hopping down to retrieve a morning bottle for Maya._

_Brittany scurries out of the kitchen, walking the small hallway until she's in the foyer, waving her fingers at Maya as she slips her suit jacket on. "Bye bye, pumpkin. Mama's gonna miss you."_

_Maya's looks across the room at her, stuffed dog forgotten as Brittany opens the door. Her chin trembles. _

"_Pumpkin?" Brittany asks quizzically, confused at Maya's quick change in emotions. "Did you bite too hard on your finger again?"_

_Brittany's still got the door open, keys jingling on her finger when Maya finally lets go, throwing her head back and crying loudly._

_Brittany closes the door and starts to rush over, only getting a couple of steps before Maya quiets, head snapping back down to look for her mom._

"_Britt?" Santana says, joining them. "What happ-"_

"_Shh," Brittany says, waving her over away from Maya and closer to their front door. "C'mon," Brittany whispers, grabbing Santana's hand and walking them to the door, her eyes never leaving Maya's. _

_She reaches for the doorknob and Maya's lower lip juts out._

_She turns it and Maya's chin trembles._

"_Oh my God," Brittany gasps out, pulling Santana with her to Maya. "It's finally happened," she gushes, lifting the baby up and into her arms. _

"_What's finally happened?"_

_Brittany nuzzles her nose against Maya's soft cheek and laughs when the baby giggles. "She notices when we're not around now. She doesn't want us to go, San."_

"_Is that…normal?" Santana asks, leaning into Brittany and reaching a finger up so that Maya can grasp it._

"_Yes. Very normal and right on time and our baby's a genius, Santana!" Brittany practically yells._

You see, Brittany's read every baby book that's ever been written at least three times so she knew straight away that when seven month old Maya started crying every time they left the room for a second, she was entering the stage every parent adores in the beginning but dreads in the end: the clingy baby stage otherwise known as separation anxiety.

At first, it was cute because – let's be real – what can be more flattering than your baby wanting to spend every minute they're awake with you?

They overcompensated too, with extra hugs and kisses every time they went to the bathroom and Brittany's leaving for work goodbye routine stretched out to about a half-hour.

But then, the usually sleepy come bath time Maya started taking longer to put to bed and she started waking up in the middle of the night…and the beginning of the night and the end of the night until they decided recently to just let her sleep in the bed with them, which, needless to say, has severely curtailed their late night sexy times. So much so that Brittany's naturally overactive imagination has teamed up with Brittany's sexual frustration and manifested itself in the most vivid sex dreams she'd ever had – and one about a unicorn and a grapefruit but she doesn't think that's related.

Santana's still ghosting her fingers across Brittany's face, her index finger pressing just slightly against Brittany's top lip – right where her beauty mark is, and Brittany exhales a ragged breath, her body and mind at war as she debates whether or not Maya'll actually remember it later on in life if she just jumps Santana right now.

"Don't even think about it," Santana threatens mildly, just when Brittany starts to dart her tongue out and capture that roaming digit in between her lips.

Brittany pouts. "I know I wanted her to stay a baby forever, but Maya, I cannot _wait_ until you're out of this stage."

***o*O*o***

It's rare that Santana goes out without Brittany (and that Brittany goes out without Santana, except for work) and it's even rarer since they have Maya to worry about, so when Quinn calls her up and extends the solo invite Santana is so taken aback she immediately says no.

"_C'mon Mrs. Pierce. Do I need to ask your wife if you can come out to play?"_

Santana sighs, picking up the rattle Maya tossed to the floor. "Can't Brittany come too?"

"_No. I'm taking Brittany out next weekend. Tonight is for you. It's already in my planner."_

Santana bounces Maya on her knee absently, worrying her lower lip. "I don't really feel like it, Q."

"_I know you don't feel like it. You haven't felt like it in months. That's my point. You guys are married, yes, and you have a baby. But you don't have to stay locked up in your house all the time. And I'm taking you out individually because Mercedes' horror story has made the rounds and no one is crazy enough to attempt babysitting that adorable monster you gave birth to."_

"Watch it," Santana warns_._

"_I kid. You know I love that little drool factory. C'mon Santana. In or out? Actually, no. No out. You're in. You have to be. It's in my planner in ink."_

"So I don't really have a choice then, do I?" Santana says, jokingly of course.

"_Nope. See you at seven," _Quinn chirps before disconnecting the call.

She stares at the phone for a moment in complete disbelief before putting it down, her eyes finding an inquisitive Maya watching her intently.

"I think you're Aunt Quinn is making me go out tonight. What do you think about that?"

Maya blinks up at her before breaking out into a wide yawn.

"My sentiments exactly."

***o*O*o***

Sometimes – and most times Santana loves her for it, but sometimes – Brittany lives in this bubble.

It's a great bubble to live in, Santana has to be honest, because in it everybody is nice and decent even if they're not necessarily _caring_, and no one cares that a child is being raised by two women or that Kurt and Blaine are planning their wedding.

In Brittany's world, everybody's the best person they can possibly be.

Until they're not.

And Santana would love it if Brittany never had to deal with that; the idiots that say that they're wrong. That their love is wrong. That what they _feel_ is wrong.

Santana's always there when that happens – promptly telling those people to 'fuck off' before she sprays 'lady gay' all over them and she's loathe for the day that Brittany encounters those kind of people _alone…_

But sometimes she _needs_ Brittany to get it, to understand, because sometimes she might not be there.

"Oooh, San," Brittany says, bouncing Maya a little in her Baby Bjorn as she darts toward the tiny outfits. "Wouldn't she look so cute in this?"

"It's a tuxedo, Britt."

"You thought I looked cute in mine," Brittany pouts, holding the outfit at Maya's arm length. "What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Maya swats at the pretty suit, blabbering a mile a minute in baby talk and Brittany's drops a kiss onto the top of her dark curly hair. "You're right baby. Taupe is not your color."

Santana shakes her head with smile, flipping through the girls' clothing on the opposite side. "Every time we come into this store I get all…baby happy," she says through a breath, holding a onesie much too small for Maya against her chest. "Like, I just want a million of 'em, you know?"

"I know what you mean," Brittany agrees, swaying side to side a little as Maya grabs onto her index fingers. "A million Pumpkins would be beyond perfect."

"Yeah, but then I remember giving birth," Santana mutters lowly. "It's like a mental bitch slap from God. Or, you know, my vagina."

Brittany snickers. "It wasn't that bad."

Santana scoffs. "Says the woman who didn't pass a watermelon out of her va-jay-jay."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You can make fun of me too when it's my turn."

"Yeah?" Santana says, eyes flashing.

"Totally," Brittany grins, falling into Santana's eyes. "Okay, now I've completely forgotten what we came here for."

"Sippy cups," Santana answers authoritatively, like she wasn't just as lost as Brittany a moment ago. "Ooh, but, let me go grab some diapers though."

"San, we have like thousands of diapers at home," Brittany says with a laugh, watching as Santana jogs off with the cart.

"You can never have enough poop sacks!" Santana calls back, hustling away, leaving Brittany and Maya standing in front of a wall of colorful plastic cups.

"Whoa," Brittany says, peering up and around. There's spill proof, leak proof, crack proof. There's microwaveable, dishwasher safe, and freezer capable. There are some with little fishes on them and monkeys and – _aww_ – kittens.

Brittany lets out a low whistle. "This is…a lot of fuckin' cups," she says to herself mostly, then winces. "Sorry, Pumpkin. Mama said a bad word."

Maya doesn't seem to mind though, seemingly equally as impressed with what Brittany's has now dubbed 'The Wall o' Cups'.

"We need Mommy for this, I think," Brittany says, bouncing Maya a little as the baby grows somewhat restless – but mostly just annoyed because the colorful objects are out of her tiny arms' reach.

"Hi there."

Brittany turns and sees a little old lady smiling gently at her. "Hi."

"Forgive me, but I was in here looking for something for my Grandson and I couldn't help but notice your darling daughter," the woman says, her voice and eyes kind. "She's beautiful, dear."

"Thank you," Brittany says proudly, fretting over Maya's little hair bow nervously. "She gets her looks from her Mommy."

At this, the woman balks, eyeing Brittany curiously but before she can ask…what, Brittany's not even sure, Santana's rounding the corner with a cart full of diapers. "Oh, good. You found the cups," she says, sounding just a tad winded. She drops a kiss onto Maya's forehead before she even notices they have company. "Oh, hello," Santana says, her eyes curious.

But the woman's kind gaze glazes over a second before she sucks her teeth, seemingly in disappointment. "Such a shame," she mutters almost to herself.

"Excuse me?" Santana asks, not quite up to speed with the situation.

"How dare you?" the woman says quietly yet passionately. "How dare you bring this child up in such an unnatural lifestyle? I don't care what you people do with one another, God knows I don't, but when you bring an innocent child into your indecency…" she trails off, disdain clear in her features. "It's not right."

"I'm sorry," Santana starts sarcastically, "But does it look like I give a damn about what you think about me or my family? Because if I look like I do, then please tell me. I wouldn't want you to have that impression of me."

"Your family?" the woman squawks incredulously. "Your family is a lie. Science proves that. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

She hurries away after dealing that blow, leaving a furious Santana almost quaking with anger. "Can you believe the nerve of that-" she starts to say, turning around d to look at Brittany – Brittany, her wife, who's standing there with tears in her eyes.

"Oh Britt," Santana sighs, reaching up a hand to cup Brittany's cheek, willing the tears away. "Don't cry. She's not worth it."

Brittany bites her lips, trying to stay strong. "She said-"

Santana cuts her off with a kiss. "And she's wrong. _We_ are Maya's parents. You and me. You _know_ that."

Brittany nods, her eyes blinking and a lone unchecked tear crawls down her cheek a moment before Santana's wiping it away. "Yeah, I know but-"

"Look at your daughter, Britt," Santana says, her voice hardening and the tone contrasts so much with the one she just had, Brittany quickly obeys, her eyes finding a curious Maya staring up at her.

"_I_ gave birth to her," Santana says, her voice thick with emotion, "She grew inside of me, and, yes, scientifically you didn't have much to do with that. But you look at her, Britt. You look at her and tell me she doesn't _feel_ like she's yours. You look at her and tell me that you don't see half of you and half of me staring back at you. Because that's _all_ I see and that's the only proof I'll ever need."

Brittany looks at Maya, sees the tiny nose and set of her eyes that _screams _Santana, but, there are telltale signs of Brittany there as well. From the open almost blank expression on her face, to the crooked half-smile Brittany almost always wears. She is both of them and, damn it, she always will be.

A slow smile spreads across Brittany's face. "She's ours," she whispers, trailing a finger down between Maya's eyebrows and along her nose, smiling wider when Maya's eyes cross trying to follow it because Brittany _so_ does that. "She's totally ours."

Santana smiles. "Totally."

***o*O*o***

"When is Quinn coming to scoop you up again?" Brittany asks, flipping the veggies and noodles with expert ease like the pro that she is.

"I think she said around seven," Santana answers, still playing with Maya who's sitting in her high chair.

Santana takes the ball sitting on Maya's tabletop and covers it with one of the table napkins as Maya grins, pleased.

"Where's the ball?" Santana asks, voice bubbly. "There it is," she says enthusiastically a moment later, laughing along when the dimples in Maya's cheeks get deeper.

"I thought you were done hiding things under napkins?" Brittany says coyly, stirring the chicken and sauce into the thoroughly cooked mixture.

"Hardy har har," Santana says dryly, playfully glaring at Brittany. Even so, she tucks the napkin away, slightly embarrassed.

"Aww, come on," Brittany laughs. "I thought you were so incredibly cute that night all: 'Brittany, are we dating?'"

"I didn't know," Santana defends, her voice going just a little bit high and nasally like it does when she's embarrassed and trying to act she's not. "And when you don't know something you ask questions."

"Santana, we were sleeping together."

"Sex is not dating," Santana reminds her, almost like she's singing it.

"That was your rule," Brittany shrugs, removing the food from the stove to plate it, "Not mine."

"So, sex was always dating for you?" Santana asks, quietly, resuming the game with Maya.

She really likes it.

Brittany nods, leaning against the counter as she looks at Santana. "Always. When it came to us."

Santana's heart melts. "Britt-Britt."

Brittany laughs, knowing that look and tone of voice. "Later," she says, walking over to the table with a dinner plate in each hand. "I gotta feed my woman before she goes out."

***o*O*o***

"Oh geez," Quinn says in relief, finally letting herself into their house.

"Can I not look again?" Rachel asks from behind her, hands over her eyes. "Are they fornicating?"

Mercedes squeezes by her, pulling Rachel's hand down in the process. "It's fine Rachel. Now move. I gotta pee."

"Rachel, Quinn," Brittany says seriously, beckoning them toward her to where she's sitting on the loveseat with Maya, "There's only one rule for tonight and that is to bring Santana Lopez-Pierce back to me in the same condition you took her in. That means no tattoos or strange piercings. No impromptu haircuts. And, most importantly, no male strippers. Last time, Santana had nightmares about men in pink bikinis for weeks."

"No worries Brittany," Rachel smiles, nodding once.

"Absolutely," Quinn agrees. "I mean, how much trouble can we get in with Rachel around?"

"I beg your pardon. I'll have you know that just last week _I _was on top," she whispers scandalously and Brittany barks out a laugh, nearly frightening Maya in the process.

Santana stops mid-stride. "I _so_ wish I would've come in here a minute later."

"Are you ready to go?" Quinn asks, watching amusedly as Brittany doesn't even try to hide the way she's checking Santana out.

"Um, yeah," Santana says, slipping on her shoes. "Wheezy, we bouts to be out!"

"I'm coming," Mercedes says, hustling into the living room, her purple top shimmering.

"I'll see you later, baby," Santana goes over to Brittany and kisses her once, twice before leaning down to give Maya a soft kiss to her warm cheek. "You too, Princess."

"They're doing that thing again," Mercedes murmurs when Santana and Brittany linger a little longer than necessary.

"Alright," Quinn says hooking her arm around Santana's before moving toward the door with Rachel in tow. "We'll have her back before you know it, Britt."

"You'd better," Brittany warns, jokingly but really not. "Hey, wait. Wait. Watch this."

She stands Maya up on her legs, holding her steady with one hand as she blows kisses with the other. "Do this pumpkin," Brittany says, pressing her palm to her face and pulling it away with an exaggerated 'mwah'.

Maya copies her – well, not really; she licks her palm ad pulls it away; whatever.

Santana thinks they're the best kisses in the world.

***o*O*o***

Santana gets in late – late, late, late.

But she had a good time – her girls, Tina included, still know how to have fun in the unmessy, uncomplicated way and she actually enjoyed herself, even with Rachel's penchant for drunken sexual over-shares.

But she is tired and all she really wants to do is go curl up with her wife and her baby until the late hours of the morning.

She drops her keys onto the table in the foyer, the metal clinking across the immaculately polished surface. She slips out of her shoes next, lining them up neatly next to Brittany's sneakers before she heads for the bedroom, poking her head into Maya's, not expecting her to be in there, but she is there, sleeping soundly.

She tiptoes inside and peeks over the top of the crib, careful to not make a sound and ever so gently brushes the top of Maya's head, her fingers playing in the dark curls. "Night Princess," she whispers, pulling back when Maya heaves a contented breath.

Santana makes her way back out of Maya's room and travels the few feet to their bedroom, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and finding Brittany faced away from the bedroom door, shoulders rising and falling rhythmically.

Santana slips out of her dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor before she grabs for one of Brittany's t-shirts, slipping it on as she makes her way over to her side of the bed, yawning quietly.

She slides under the sheets, her lips finding the warm skin of Brittany's shoulder and kissing it gently. "Night, baby," she murmurs, ready to follow Brittany into slumber only, something isn't right.

Brittany's not snoring.

"Baby?" Santana questions, confused as to why Brittany would be pretending to be asleep.

Her wife turns around and Santana almost has to look away from the bright smile she's donning.

Brittany looks like the cat that ate the canary.

"I've been waiting for you," Brittany whispers, unabashedly pressing her lips to Santana's.

"Mmm," Santana moans in affirmation. "I can see that."

"Yeah. I was here with Maya when it dawned on me that Rachel is getting more action than me," Brittany says, looking appalled by the idea. "Rachel 'I've never seen another naked person' Berry. It's not cool, Santana."

"Well," Santana murmurs, sliding her right leg over so that it's draped across Brittany's thighs, "We'll just have to rectify that."

Brittany frowns. "I wanna have sex, San. Not change the Constitution."

"Not ratify, Britt," Santana smiles, reaching with her right hand to grab at Brittany's sleep shirt, bunching the material in her fist, "Rectify. I've been neglecting my other baby and we can't have that, can we?" she gives Brittany this sexy little smile that Brittany can't help but return, albeit dorkily.

"Nope," Brittany grins, her nose scrunching up.

Santana pushes her back onto her back, sliding over until she's straddling Brittany. She winks at her, "Topped."

Brittany nods. "For now."

Santana reaches down and lifts the shirt she just put on off, casting it aside and Brittany watches, mesmerized as the most ridiculously perfect body is revealed to her.

"Sex with you is so awesome," she breathes, almost marveling and Santana laughs, moving her hands so that they're resting on Brittany's torso, just at the hem of her shirt. She watches Brittany's eyes as she coaxes her hands higher, the shirt going with her until she's pushed it over Brittany's breasts, unhindered by a bra.

"I love touching you," she whispers, her hands greedy yet unhurried in their exploration and Brittany gasps, her eyes taking on that smoky blue quality they do when she's turned on.

"I…" Brittany croaks before clearing her throat, "I love it…when you touch me."

Santana smiles, quixotic, before lowering her head swiftly, her mouth attending to one nipple then the other, alternating between kissing and licking and sucking and nipping, methodically turning Brittany into a quivering pile of want and need.

"_Santana_," Brittany whines, her whole body lifting off of the mattress as she rolls her hips into Santana. "_Please_."

"What do you want?" Santana murmurs against damp skin, her ear placed over Brittany's chest listening to the quickened _thump-thump- thump-thump_ of her heart. She listens as it speeds up even more as her hand slides down the slope of Brittany's belly until it's resting just at the waistband of Brittany's panties. "Tell me Britt-Britt," she whispers, slipping a finger beneath the white cotton fabric and teasing back and forth.

Brittany hisses when Santana snaps the elastic against her over-sensitive skin. "I want you," she manages to say, her hips steadily moving to help relieve some of the tension Santana's managed to work up.

She definitely needs to get off and soon.

…and if this is another dream, Brittany is going to cry.

But it's not a dream, so so so not a dream, because Santana's staring up at her, her chin resting on Brittany's stomach while her hands grip her underwear on either side. "How?" she asks quietly and Brittany has to swallow because dear God, who knew one of the five questions could sound so fuckin' hot.

"Your mouth," she croaks out, her chest heaving and Santana wastes no time, sliding Brittany's underwear down her legs and Brittany helps her by kicking them off. Santana's slides her hands up Brittany's legs, over her knees, along the outside of her thighs, her nails lightly scratching the closer she gets to her destination.

She settles between Brittany's legs, tossing one leg over her shoulder before reaching up to thread her fingers with Brittany's. The moment she's settled, Brittany waits that three, two, one second it takes to-

"OhmyGod, San," she gasps out in a rush, her whole body writhing as Santana works her over with a skilled tongue, dedicated lips.

She can do a lot of things with that mouth, Brittany knows, but this right here, eating Brittany out like it's the only thing she'll ever want to do ever takes all the Baskin Robbins Rainbow cake.

Santana works her up, up, up until Brittany's basically sliding up and down on the sheets, teetering just on the edge of that white-hot feeling of euphoria, her hands holding onto Santana's tightly and just when she thinks it'll never end – that she'll be suspended in the completely amazing yet unbearable never-ending moment of almost bliss – Santana's teeth scrape against her gently and she buckles, falling over the edge and tumbling down, down, down…

***o*O*o***

**Four hours later…**

Brittany flops face down next to Santana, sweaty and chest heaving, feeling like she's just sprinted through a triathlon.

Sex with Santana should be like, an Olympic event.

"I don't think I can feel my legs," she murmurs into the bed sheets.

Santana chuckles breathlessly next to her. "You don't seem too concerned about it."

"That's 'cause my brains been melted by all the orgasms," Brittany says, somehow mustering the strength to turn over and face her wife. "This is so much better than any dream."

"But what about the pickles?"

Brittany scrunches up her nose. "Pickles?"

"Yeah. Didn't you say you wanted extra pickles on your burger?"

Brittany looks confused for another second or so before her face falls in horror. "Please, no."

Santana manages to keep a straight face for about three more seconds before she cracks up.

Brittany gasps, punching her lightly in the arm. "That's not funny."

"It so was," Santana manages between her chuckles. "Your jaw like, unhinged in shock."

"Meanie," Brittany pouts, but it only makes Santana laugh harder. "Okay. It wasn't that funny."

"I'm sorry, Britt," Santana says, still laughing. "I think I'm a little punch drunk. But, look, hey, the sun's up. I made good on my promise. I took care of you all," she kisses Brittany, "night," kisses her again, "Long," she concludes, this time dragging out a long noisy kiss that makes Brittany laugh.

"You always keep your promises," Brittany tells her, pulling back and fixing Santana with a serious look. "Each and every one of them. That's why I love you."

"I love you too, Britt."


End file.
